We Whisper the Wind
by pricklygreenmage
Summary: What initially appears to be a routine homicide turns out to be something far more sinister: The case takes a personal turn, much to the horror of Rusty Beck and the Major Crimes division. Case fic. Sharon&Rusty.
1. Prologue

Rated T for violence, implied sexual assault, mild language and potentially disturbing descriptions.

* * *

><p>Come away, O human child!<p>

To the waters and the wild

With a faery, hand in hand,

For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

- 'The Stolen Child', W.B. Yeats

* * *

><p><strong>PROLOGUE <strong>

Alice closes her eyes and imagines the princess of fairyland. She imagines her flapping her pink butterfly wings. She imagines her smiling and saying softly–

"Alice! Alice, push me on the swing!"

Alice opens her eyes and expels a loud sigh. There's a knot of irritation in her chest.

"Go away, Max! Get Rachel to push you," she snaps.

Her little brother scowls up at her. "But you promised!"

"No, I didn't! I didn't pinky promise so it doesn't count."

"Does too! You're a meanie. I'm telling Mom on you!" He turns and runs towards the playground.

Alice huffs. She turns away and pictures the fairy princess again. The princess says: _I need your help, Alice. We have to find the door to fairyland before the goblins come._

Alice knows where the door to fairyland is. She found it last time they came to the park.

"It's this way," she tells the princess, running up the stone steps cut into the hillside. They're old and crumbly and overrun with weeds.

The door to fairyland is made of wood and coated in cracked green paint.

"Now we've gotta open it," she tells the princess. Princess Petal, she decides. She likes the sound of the words together.

She yanks on the doorknob, but the door doesn't budge.

"We have to find the key," she tells Princess Petal.

"Are you talking to yourself, loser?" says a voice from behind her. Alice jumps and turns to glare at her sister.

"No!"

"Sure. You do realise that's just a stupid storeroom. It's not, like, the gateway to fairyland or whatever you were going on about last time."

"Bug off, Rachel!" Alice turns to tug again at the doorknob. This time, the door moves, but something stops it from opening. Alice kneels, the damp grass prickling her knees through her stockings, and feels along the base of the door.

Her fingers brush something hard. A rock. It's wedged under the door and half-buried in the dirt. She wiggles it until it comes loose. A woodlouse runs with tickling legs onto her hand. She turns and flicks it at Rachel, who yelps, and jumps back with a disgusted look.

"God, you're such a freak," she says.

Alice sticks out her tongue at her and wipes her dirty hands on her dress. It's difficult to imagine Princess Petal with her sister right there, but she tries anyway. Her sister's a spy for the goblins. She'll have to communicate with the princess telepathically.

_I think I did it_, she tells Princess Petal. _Now we can go to fairyland and warn everyone._

Alice stands. She turns the doorknob and tugs. The door opens with a gentle creak and Alice steps inside.

The smell hits her like a slap and makes her gag. It makes her step back. It clogs her nose and she can taste it in the back of her throat. She covers her mouth with her hand and turns to run when something catches her eye.

There's a woman asleep on the ground. She's lying on her side, surrounded by dusty tools and half-covered by an old rug. Stomach churning, Alice walks towards her. Fear pricks her forehead. The top of her head feels numb. _Something's wrong_, she thinks. It feels like the world's tilted; everything's slightly skewed. _Something's wrong. Something's wrong. Something's wrong._

Alice wants to speak, but her hand's clasped over her mouth and it's holding her together.

She crouches beside the woman and reaches out with a trembling hand to touch her blanket-covered shoulder. She grips the shoulder more firmly and shakes it. The motion tips the woman onto her back, facing Alice. Her skin is mottled. Her tongue protrudes from bloated lips. _She's sticking out her tongue at me_, Alice thinks numbly. There's a hollow feeling in her ears.

She hears Rachel's voice from outside, but the sound is muted, like she's underwater.

"What's taking you so long, loser? Did you find fairyland?"


	2. Chapter One

**Chapter One**

_08:00_

The body on the table is covered in bruises. Sharon's heart clenches. She hides her reaction behind a mask of careful composure and turns a questioning gaze on Doctor Morales.

"I'll start with the bad news," Morales says. "The time of death was approximately two weeks ago. It's difficult to narrow it down much further than that. The storeroom where she was found was cool and dry, which would've slowed decomposition."

"And the good news?" Sharon asks.

"I don't know if I'd call it 'good', but we know the cause of death: strangulation." Morales indicates the bruising around the victim's neck with a gloved finger. "She was facing her killer when she died."

"Any sign of sexual assault?" Provenza asks from beside her.

"Almost definitely. See these bruises around her pelvis and wrists? She was held down, and the severity of the bruising suggests she was naked and trying to get away."

"Did you find any fingerprints?" Sharon asks, looking at the finger-shaped bruises marring the woman's pale skin. Her red-brown hair is dark against the white table.

"Only from the little girl who discovered the body. It's difficult to develop latent fingerprints from human skin anyway, and the body's been decomposing for days. Any fingerprints that may have been present at the time of death are long gone."

"Fantastic," says Provenza, his voice laced with sarcasm.

"One more thing, Captain," Morales continues, ignoring him. "Despite clear signs of a struggle, I found traces of Valium in her blood. But it's difficult to say whether that has anything to do with her death. It might have been self-administered at an earlier time."

"Okay." Sharon draws a breath. "Thank you, Doctor. Let me know as soon as you have more information." She inclines her head and turns to leave.

_08:17_

Provenza pins the photograph of the victim to the whiteboard and takes a mouthful of his low-fat vanilla latte. It's bitter. He scowls. Waste of damn money.

He looks over at the captain, who stands, arms crossed, examining the photograph. _By all means, take your time_, he thinks. _It's not like we have anything better to do. _

After a moment, she says, "We need an ID on the body. Our Jane Doe has been dead for two weeks so there _should _be a missing person's report. Lieutenant Tao, would you please check our database?"

"Yes, ma'am," Tao replies.

"Lieutenant Flynn, I want you to contact the parents of our young witness." The captain pauses to look at the paperwork on Tao's desk. "Elizabeth and Sasha Crawley, mothers of Alice, Max and Rachel Crawley," she reads.

"Aye, aye, Captain," says Flynn.

_Damn gays_, Provenza thinks, out of habit, and then he thinks of Rusty and guilt squirms inside him.

"And get them to bring Alice to the station," the captain adds.

"Captain?" Tao says. She turns to him, hair bouncing. "I have an ID on our victim. Her name's Charlotte Sampson. Her husband, Michael Rivers, filed a missing person's report three weeks ago."

"I see. Thank you, Lieutenant."

Tao squints at the computer screen. "I also did a quick Google search. Ms Sampson's Facebook page is private, but Mr Rivers' is public. Looks like they were both musicians. They also have a son: Sam Rivers. He's, uh, nineteen years old."

Provenza meets the captain's eyes as she sweeps her gaze over first him, then Sykes. "Lieutenant Provenza and Detective Sykes, I think you should pay Mister Rivers and his son a visit."

"Our pleasure, Captain," says Sykes cheerfully. Provenza rolls his eyes.

"Speak for yourself," he mutters. He takes another sip of coffee and grimaces. Disgusting.

_08:31_

Sharon turns to watch Lieutenant Provenza and Detective Sykes walk down the corridor towards the elevator. She hopes they'll discover something useful. Something about this case, the memory of the woman on the table in the morgue, the bruises on her skin, has put a knot of foreboding in her stomach. She can't shake the pervasive feeling that she's missing something, that something's wrong. Something beyond the fact that a woman has been murdered.

The sound of quiet footsteps draws her out of her thoughts.

"Hey, Sharon," Rusty says from behind her. She turns, smiling. The sight of him loosens something in her chest.

"_Rusty_, hi. How was your day?"

"Okay." He pauses, looking uncomfortable, then says, "I, uh, brought you lunch." He holds out a white paper bag.

"Oh, Rusty. Thank you. You didn't need to do that."

He rolls his eyes. "It's not like I _mind_, Sharon. Besides, you, like, didn't have breakfast this morning."

She hadn't realized he'd noticed. She feels another smile stretch her mouth and crinkle her eyes. It never stops surprising her, how much he's grown. She reaches out and gently takes the bag from him.

A child's voice turns her head. "Can we get ice cream after, Mom?" A little girl in a red dress trails behind a woman with dark blonde hair.

"Excuse me," she says to Rusty. "Why don't you wait in the break room? I'll come get you when I'm done."

"Um, sure," he says. Sharon walks over to greet the young witness and her mother, indicating with a tilt of her head for Andy to join her.

"Ms Crawley?" Sharon says. She gives the little girl at the woman's side a warm smile. "Thank you for coming. Would you follow me, please?"

_08:40_

Andy watches as Ms Crawley fiddles with her necklace and smiles an encouraging smile at her daughter. Beside him, Sharon folds her hands on top of the interview room table.

"Go on, Alice," Ms Crawley says. "Tell the police what happened, and then we can get ice cream." Her voice is husky and cracked, and she coughs sporadically, but there are no nicotine stains on her fingers. An ex-smoker, Andy guesses.

Alice glances around the room with curious eyes, but says nothing.

"You were at the playground with your brother and sister, Alice?" Andy prompts.

Alice ignores him entirely and looks at Sharon.

"You're really pretty," Alice tells her. Andy smirks. At least the kid isn't blind.

"Oh. Ah. Thank you," Sharon says, with a quick smile of surprise. Alice opens her mouth to say something else.

Before she can, Sharon says, "I need you to tell me what happened at the park, Alice."

"Um. Well, I found a secret door," Alice says. The words sound stilted.

"And what did this secret door look like?"

"It was big, and green, and there was a bug under it."

"What was inside the secret door?"

Alice's eyes flick to the side. She screws up her face like she's about to cry.

"A lady," she says, eventually, slowly. Her voice shakes slightly.

"Had you been to the park before, Alice?" Andy asks, hoping to distract her.

"Yes, but I couldn't open the secret door last time, 'cause there was a man there."

Andy sits forward in his seat. In his peripheral vision, he sees Sharon sit up straighter. "A man?" he asks.

"Yes. A big man."

"Do you remember what this man looked like?" Andy asks.

Alice shakes her head.

"Are you sure, Alice?" Sharon asks.

"Yes." Alice nods. Sharon expels a short sigh.

"Okay. Lieutenant Flynn, why don't you show Alice to the break room while I talk to her mother?" She pushes back her chair and stands up.

"Aye, aye, Captain," Andy says, standing too. "Alice? Come with me and I'll show you where the ice cream is." He walks out of the interview room, Alice beside him, taking small, quick steps to keep up.

The moment Andy enters the murder room, Rusty approaches, looking hopeful.

"Where's Sharon?" he asks.

"Still talking to Alice's mother."

"Oka-ay. Do you have time to help me with this application letter?"

"Not right now, kid. I've gotta show Alice where the ice cream is." He exchanges grins with the girl. "And then I've gotta check in with Lieutenant Provenza. Sharon shouldn't be long."

_08:40_

Amy keeps her 'tough cop' expression firmly in place, but she's fighting a grin. She's in a fantastic mood, and the fact that her cheerfulness is annoying the hell out of Provenza is only serving to increase it.

Her dinner with Chuck last night was perfect. The food and wine and conversation were great. The sex was even better.

"I thought you said it was a five-minute walk," Provenza grumbles from beside her.

She'd parked the car down the street from Michael Rivers' house and insisted they walk the rest of the way, to Provenza's irritation. The weather is perfect and she's had way too many suspects run at the first sight of a police car pulling into their driveway.

Provenza has too, of course. It's why he didn't pull rank on her.

"Here it is!" she says brightly, spotting Number 23. Provenza scowls. The house is a typical suburban residence: red brick, two windows framing a white door. The front lawn is overgrown and choked with weeds.

Amy presses the doorbell. She hears it ring, muted by the walls of the house, followed by the sound of a string of muffled swear words. A thump precedes a series of heavy footsteps, growing louder. The door opens and the man on the other side of it squints at her and Provenza.

"Yeah?" he says.

"Michael Rivers?" Sykes says.

"Yeah?" Michael repeats.

"LAPD," says Provenza. "May we come in?" The polite phrasing is belied by the undertone of sarcasm.

"This about Charlotte?" the man asks, stepping aside to let them pass.

"I'm afraid so," Amy says. The inside of the house is filthy. Empty beer bottles, stained newspapers, takeout containers are strewn across every visible surface.

"You find her?" Michael asks.

"Yes," Amy says. "Why don't we sit down?"

"Don't you bloody well tell me what to do in my own house," Michael snaps. His teeth are tiny. They make his face look oddly childlike.

God. The people she has to deal with in this job. It's almost difficult to feel sorry for him.

"I'm afraid I have some bad new," she tells him. "You wife's body was found last week."

Michael stills. His face takes on a grey tinge. His Adam's apple bobs up and down beneath the pale skin of his throat.

"How'd she-" He breaks off, clears his throat. "How'd it happen, d'you know?"

There's no gentle way to phrase it. "She was strangled," Amy says, keeping her voice level.

There's a pause, thick and heavy.

Amy notices a guitar in the corner of the room, leaning against the wall. It's polished and gleaming, the only clean thing in the room.

Michael speaks, finally. "Bitch got what was coming to her," he says.

Amy feels her good mood drain away. Anger speeds up her heart. God. She doesn't know why she's even surprised anymore. People are assholes.

"Sir," she says, meeting his eyes. "Your wife was raped, then strangled to death."

Michael says nothing, but he can't meet her eyes. He folds his trembling arms over his chest.

"I hate to ask, but do you know of anyone who'd want to harm her?" Amy asks. "Did you notice anything odd about her behavior before she disappeared?"

Michael grimaces. "Bitch was receiving roses from some asshole. Thought she was cheating on me."

"Can you show us these roses?" Provenza asks.

"Nah. Threw them in the trash last week."

Amy doesn't need to look at Provenza to know what he's thinking. _It's always the husband. _

"There were notes with the roses, though," Michael continues. "Some pretentious poetry crap, but no name or anything."

"Let me guess. You threw the notes out, too," Provenza says drily.

"Well, yeah."

"Tell me. Did you and your wife get along?" Provenza asks.

"We do– _did_ alright. Except for when she was an unreasonable bitch. Everything was always bloody conditional with her."

_11:06_

Rusty yanks open the door to the break room. He looks back at Sharon, who says, "We can get burgers for dinner, _if _you finish your application letter."

Rusty tries to feel exasperated, but his lips twitch in a smile instead. _Sharon_. "I have, like, one paragraph to go," he assures her.

She smiles in return and inclines her head at him. "I'll see you later then," she says, and Rusty steps into the break room, door clicking shut behind him.

He's halfway to his usual table when he realizes the room is occupied.

A little girl, with brown hair and bags under her brown eyes, stares up at him from his favorite chair.

"Hi," she says. "Who're you?"

"Um," he says. "Rusty …" He glances around the room. Should he go somewhere else?

"I'm Alice," she tells him. Her voice is bossy and high-pitched. "Is Captain Raydor your mom?"

"Uh," says Rusty. Before he can reply with a vehement negative, the girl says, "Don't you think she has pretty hair?"

"I-I guess?" says Rusty. He's never paid much attention to it.

"Princess Petal – she's my fairy friend – she has pretty hair too."

"Um," he says, "okay?" He decides not to leave; he wants a soda. Maybe if he ignores her, she'll go away. He pulls his notebook out of his backpack and deposits it on the table with a thump.

"I had ice cream earlier. It was chocolate and vanilla and strawberry," she says, then asks, "What are you doing?"

"Application letter." If he says as little as possible, she'll stop asking him questions, right?

"Oh. Like college stuff?" Apparently not.

"Yeah."

"Oh," she says again. She wrinkles her nose. "That's boring." He half smiles before he can stop himself. She's quiet for a moment. He glances at her. She's tracing a pattern on the tabletop with her index finger and looking at him from under her eyelashes.

"Have you played hide-and-seek before?" she asks, too casually.

"Um." He blinks. Has he? He thinks he might have, when he was really little, with his mom. Thinking of his mom makes his throat ache and his chest constrict with guilt.

He swallows painfully. "I don't remember," he says, finally.

"That's okay," Alice declares magnanimously. "I'll teach you."

Rusty glances longingly at the door.

_17:05_

Sharon shoulders her purse with an inward sigh. The strap digs into her skin. It's been a long day and she's looking forward to going home.

She walks towards the break room to tell Rusty it's time to leave. Her feet ache in her heels. She reaches the door and grasps the handle. It's cold against her palm. From inside, she hears the sound of a child giggling and it makes her pause.

When she pushes open the door and steps inside, she can hear Rusty saying, "You do realize I can, like, hear you laughing." He's standing in the middle of the room, his back to her.

Alice Crawley pokes her head, and then the rest of her body, out from underneath a table. She stumbles but catches herself, then runs towards Rusty, arms extended.

Sharon sees Rusty brace himself, and then Alice is wrapping her arms around his waist.

"You cheated!" Alice squeals, deafeningly. Sharon watches as Rusty winces and gives a startled laugh. She can tell he's confused but his gaze as he looks at Alice is surprisingly affectionate.

Sharon's breath catches and a warm feeling grows in her chest.

She takes another step into the room, her shoes clacking against the floor. Rusty and Alice look up.

"I see you two have met," Sharon says, with a smile.

"I'm showing Rusty how to play hide-and-seek," Alice tells her. "He doesn't remember how."

"That was nice of you. Rusty, are you ready to go?" she asks. "Alice, why don't we take you to your mom. I'm sure she's looking for you."

_17:38_

Rusty waits impatiently as Sharon unlocks the door to the condo.

"I'll get changed, then we can go for burgers," she tells him. His stomach grumbles.

They've just stepped inside when Sharon's phone rings. She answers with a frown.

"Hello, Lieutenant?" There's silence as she listens. He watches as she takes a breath and touches her fingers to her forehead.

"I see," she says finally. "That is unfortunate. Thank you for informing me." Another pause, then, "Yes, I'll be there shortly." She hangs up.

"You're leaving?" Rusty asks in disbelief. "But we literally _just_ got home. And what about dinner?"

Sharon smiles, but it's superficial and he can see the exhaustion behind it. "I'll give you some money. You can have something delivered."

"What about you?" he asks.

Her smile fades as she says, "I'll eat later. I have to go right away, I'm afraid. There's been another murder."


End file.
